


you and me

by softsakusa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Parenthood, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softsakusa/pseuds/softsakusa
Summary: one-shots, drabbles and everything in-between.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Miya Atsumu/Reader, Miya Osamu/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader
Comments: 42
Kudos: 310





	1. a life in your hands: kuroo

tetsurou hears the rain gently falling, he hears the wind - the wind isn’t howling, it’s a tender whisper.

he glances at the clock on the wall.

 _03.00am_ the clock reads.

seventy-two hours ago, tetsurou would have been asleep. sleeping until the first light of dawn. sleeping with you in his arms.

now, seventy-two hours later, he’s sitting-up with his back against the headboard, and his sleeping new-born daughter cradled in his arms. and tetsurou watches her drinking the bottle.

it still feels surreal, still feels like a dream that he is now a papa.

 _papa_ , he thinks. it’s only been seventy-two hours since her birth, and yet his arms feel empty when he’s not holding her. she’s so small in his arms, but, she fits perfectly - like a jigsaw puzzle.

it’s her first night _here_ , at home, with both him and _you_. he turns his head and looks at you. you’re asleep, breathing lightly and his heart feels so full, he’s afraid it might burst.

he knows it’s not going to be easy, being new parents is going to be challenging. you’re both bound to make mistakes, there will be frustrations, and sleepless nights. but, it’s normal and he is more than willing to learn and adjust with you by his side.

tetsurou sees you shift and you turn around facing him, rubbing your eyes. “tetsurou,” you say, quietly.

“shhh, it’s okay,” he says. “i’ve got this.”

you smile, eyes closed. “i know.”

you open your eyes, and the sight of him feeding his baby makes you feel weightless. you take this all in - him, your baby, the sound of the rain and wind - committing it to memory.

you glance at the clock on the wall.

 _03.08am_ the clock reads.

you sit up, stretching your arms in front of you. you move your body next to his, resting your head against his arm. as your sleeping baby continues to feed, you bring your fingers to her thick, black hair, fingers ghosting through it. “i have a feeling she’s going to have your hair.”

“we’ll be twins,” he hums.

you let out a breathy laugh, squeezing his arm. “like father, like daughter.”

tetsurou smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: softsakusa


	2. home is where you are: atsumu

it’s been a long day. you want nothing more than to climb into bed, and sleep. to sleep away your tired muscles and dark under eyes. but you’re adamant on staying awake, despite your eyelids heavily drooping.

it may be late at night, but it doesn’t stop tokyo’s city lights from glowing bright. from the sofa you’re sitting on, you can see the sparkling neon lights and those never-ending skyscrapers, covering the stars.

_he’ll be home soon._

it’s not easy dating a professional athlete. volleyball is demanding, training is demanding, travelling is demanding. and yet, he’s always there for you, always loving you. you know, more than anyone, that whatever atsumu loves - whether it be volleyball or you - he will put his all into it. you have never met anyone like atsumu. he is a man brimmed with dedication.

you hear the front door open, and slightly jolt. _he’s here,_ you think. you stand up and walk over to the genkan, he’s taking his shoes off and you realise atsumu hasn’t noticed you. it’s been one week, since you last saw him, and you want nothing more than to hug him, hold him, kiss him -

“(name)” he says, surprised.

you blink, taking in his appearance. his golden hair, jawline, nose, eyes, lips.

_he’s home._

“okaeri.”

you watch as atsumu’s shoulders relax, with a soft smile on his face, “tadaima.”

“you’re still awake?” he asks.

“i was waiting for you,” you say.

his eyes soften and he smiles, wider. you move to the side, as he steps on the genkan step, entering the living room. atsumu drops his sport bag onto the floor, and as he stands in front of you, you notice that he too, has dark circles beneath his eyes. he’s probably just as tired as you are. atsumu delicately holds your face in his hands, and kisses your forehead.

you sigh, happily, looking at him.

atsumu feels giddy, feels like he’s borderline drunk - not from sake or beer, but from the way you look at him. lovingly, tenderly, as if his eyes hold the same twinkling stars, covered by tokyo’s skyscrapers.

atsumu doesn’t say anything, because no words need to be said. he’s here, you’re here, and it’s more than enough. instead, he moves his head towards your lips, and kisses you. his lips move against yours, and he savours your touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: softsakusa


	3. a walk in the skies: osamu

the sun is setting. oranges, reds and yellows smeared across the horizon - colours meshed like an oil painting. and as the world outside begins to dwindle, you and osamu are inside - both in your own worlds - swaying side to side. swaying into the night and towards the stars.

his phone emits the melodic tune and it covers you both, in a tender blanket. you’re light on your toes - feeling like a ballerina dancing in the sky, dancing on cotton clouds. your body feels airy against his touch. his hands – the hands calloused by volleyball, and now they lovingly make onigiri - are on your waist, and they fit perfectly on your waist, too.

the golden light caresses his face. his jaw, nose, cheekbones – glow and his eyes, shimmer. the sight isn’t new – you’ve seen him sun-kissed many times before. but it always leaves you breathless, always makes you fall in love all over again.

osamu: a childhood friend. someone who was once shorter than you but surpassed your height as the years went by. someone you had walked with to and from school. someone who you would talk to on the phone, with the late night moon above. someone who said, _I love you_ at graduation. someone who was your first kiss – _your first everything_. and now you’re here with him, married, dancing, smiling, and so utterly in love with him.

he delicately twirls you around, as if you’re made of glass and watches your eyes crinkle as you laugh. your laugh reminds him of windchimes, blowing in the spring breeze. osamu notices you’ve been looking at him with adoration in your eyes, and softness in your smile. the sight isn’t new, but it always leaves him breathless, always makes him fall in love all over again.

osamu presses a kiss on your forehead, “what are you thinking about?” he asks.

you hum, smiling. “i’m thinking about how much I love you.”

he gently pulls you closer, kissing your cheeks, the tip of your nose and then your lips. “i was thinking the same thing.”

twilight has fallen, and the light outside is barely visible. cicadas begin to pluck their wings and both you and osamu continue to sway side to side, as silhouettes in the partial darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: softsakusa


	4. one summer's day: sakusa

it’s late in the afternoon, and the sun is still shining gold in the summer sky. outside, the heat is unbearable but the aircon in the living room is refreshing as kiyoomi sits at the dining table with a bowl in one hand, and a baby feeding spoon in his other. he mixes the puree around diligently, and from the corner of his eye, kiyoomi notices his six-month-old baby, miyuki - sitting in her highchair, secured in safety straps - looking at him.

and he feels _complete_ , and there’s no other way to describe it. it’s an unconditional love, a vulnerable love, a love only reserved for both his wife and daughter. it’s a love that comes from his heart, unapologetically.

kiyoomi dips the spoon into the puree and picks up a small dollop. with a gentle smile on his face, he places the spoon next to miyuki’s lips - offering her to eat it - and watches as she opens her mouth. with puffy cheeks, she happily swallows the rice porridge.

the traffic from outside the window is faint, and he can hear the water running as you shower. kiyoomi places the spoon next to her mouth, again. she does the same as before, but this time, miyuki babbles - some of the puree slides out her mouth, or it flies across the table.

perhaps if this situation was _pre-baby_ , he would’ve been completely unamused, disgusted even. now, he’s a papa and he knows it can’t be helped -babies are babies, they’re going to be messy - it’s part of a parent’s life. sometimes, sacrifices must be made. and when he looks at her black curly hair, and night-sky eyes, he knows it’s worth it.

with a washcloth, kiyoomi softly wipes miyuki’s face - which she giggles to and the sound is so endearing, he can’t help but kiss her on the forehead - and then wipes the table.

some time has passed, and the bowl is now empty. he passes the baby bottle towards miyuki and she grabs onto it, sipping the water. whilst she continues to drink, kiyoomi walks across to the kitchen. the open floor plan gives him a clear view of his daughter speaking gibberish to herself, and kiyoomi lets out a breathy laugh. he places the bowl and spoon in the sink and turns the tap - the water’s cool against his skin - lathering the sponge with dishwashing liquid.

he hears a _thudding_ noise, kiyoomi looks up from the sink, and watches miyuki bashing the - empty- baby bottle on the tray in front of her, and kiyoomi sighs. _at least she’s occupied,_ he thinks.

it takes only a few minutes, but he’s done cleaning. he walks over to miyuki - who is now making grabby hands at kiyoomi - wanting to be held. kiyoomi strokes her hair and then leans forward, unbuckling her and carefully pulls her out of the highchair. he holds her against his chest.

the bathroom door unlocks, and he hears your gentle footsteps entering the living room.

“kiyoomi?”

“hm?”

he turns around, and he feels warm. not from the heat, instead from what you’re wearing - a cotton night dress in this unforgiving eastern summer. it’s simple, but on you it’s perfect. your hair is damp, and the only piece of jewellery on you is your silver wedding band, snug around your ring finger. the years may have passed, but you’re beautiful as ever.

you walk over to your husband and daughter, smiling at them both. tenderly, you reach your finger out to stroke miyuki’s cheek. she returns your smile - loudly, brightly - as if there are butterflies and rainbows in your eyes.

you look at kiyoomi, and he brushes a loose piece of damp hair behind your ear. miyuki, too, is distracted by your hair - as she tries to grab some of it - and you laugh when she wiggles her hand, wanting to be carried by you. happily, you take her from kiyoomi’s arms and smother her in kisses, and miyuki giggles loudly at your playfulness.

the sight of his wife and daughter, smiling and giggling makes kiyoomi feel airy -like a leaf floating, dancing, swimming in the wind - because everything feels _right._ and even though the present is fleeting, even though one day miyuki will grow up and you’ll both grow old - kiyoomi keeps days like this close to his heart, so that one day in the future, he can look back at the past, fondly.

you look at kiyoomi, softly. “has she eaten?”

he wraps his arm around your shoulders, kissing the side of your head. “yeah,” he replies.

“all of it?” you ask, surprised.

he nods, gently pinching miyuki’s cheek.

you stare at miyuki, with an eyebrow raised, “why do you always eat everything when papa feeds you?” you pout in mock annoyance. “when mama feeds you, you never finish your food.”

the only response you get is a sloppy kiss on the cheek. you squeal and laugh, and kiyoomi’s falling in love all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: softsakusa


	5. late night touch: sakusa (e)

\- you don’t know what time it is, or how long you’ve been pinned beneath him. but you don’t care; your mind is blank and any coherent thoughts have flown out the window.

\- the room is filled with only your soft whines and his deep moans. the bed creaks when he slowly, but deeply rolls his hips against yours. he’s holding your legs around his hips because you’ve turned into jelly, you can barely meet his thrusts.

\- your hands trace his chest, covered in red marks from your kisses, and also covered in a sheen of sweat. your hazy eyes watch his abdomen convulsing, and the veins on his arms protruding with every long thrust - it makes you beg for more.

\- kiyoomi tenderly runs his knuckles down your bare stomach, and your back arches as if his touch is electric. his finger outlines the shape of your breasts, watching them bounce with every movement - he feels like he’s in a trance and relishes the moans you make, when he softly pinches and tweaks your nipples.

\- he brings himself down towards you, pinning his arms on either side of your head. and you automatically lock your arms around his neck. from your jaw to your ear, he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses and the sensation of his lips against your skin, makes you grab a lock of his hair. kiyoomi grunts in your ear at the tug you give to his hair.

\- the sound of his breathing against your ear is a steady, heavy tune. the shell of your ear is damp, and it makes you tingle - he knows the effect it has on you - and he moans your name as he continues to thrust rhythmically.

\- you breathlessly tell him that you want to kiss him. he lifts his head up and his face is so close, his cheeks are red, and you can see his dark eyes shimmer in the moonlight. he traces your nose with the tip of his own nose, and then presses his lips against yours. the kiss isn’t messy or sloppy. it’s long, deep, he knowingly slides his tongue against yours. when he pulls away, you sigh his name and your face feels even warmer.

\- he brings his hand down to your clit, rubbing and pressing it in a way that makes your toes curl. you clench around him tighter, and his rock hard cock throbs within you. you’re dripping - soaking the bed and his balls.

\- you’re close, and so is he. kiyoomi touches your g-spot, relentlessly. his thrusts are still rhythmic, but it’s faster - he’s chasing for the finish line. your whines are louder, his moans and grunts are deeper. you think the bed’s going to break from the way he is pounding you into the mattress. your face is hidden in his neck, crying out his name like a broken record.

\- you suddenly cum, gushing around him, he twitches and follows suit. he cums inside and both his and yours orgasm mix, dripping out of you.

\- minutes pass and he’s panting, you’re panting, both glazed in sweat. and as he sits up, still caged around your legs, you take in the sight of his hair sticking against his forehead and his flushed face.

\- he looks at you with a tired, but satisfied smile. he leans down giving you another kiss and whispers _i love you_ , against your lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr:softsakusa


	6. morning sun: sakusa

• it’s 6am and kiyoomi has the day off. so he has the pleasure of sleeping in.

• but instead of sleeping, he’s wide awake and laying on his side. he can see the morning sun, dimly seeping through the curtains - adding a gentle light to the room.

• he savours this, all of this, because he’s an athlete. it’s not everyday he can stay in bed with you, without having to think about his schedule for the day.

• his arm is circled around your waist, his body is against your sleeping back, and he breathes in the shampoo you used last night - it reminds him of home, reminds him of you.

• his long legs are dangled over yours, and he feels the softness of your legs.

• he hears your light breathing, feels your chest rising and falling with every breath. and his fingers ghost over your clothed stomach, tracing random patterns.

• despite being together for years, waking up next to you everyday, will always make him smile. to see you first thing in the morning, has become normal. has become a ritual. reminding him, how grateful he is for you, and grateful for your love.

• you shift, an incoherent mumble leaves your lips as you turn around to face him. he can’t help but smile when you instinctively move your head into his shoulder.

• he kisses the top of your head, and your hair is smooth against his lips.

• “kiyoomi,” you whisper. your voice is groggy from awakening, vulnerable too. you’ve got nothing to hide, you feel safe in his arms.

• “hm?” he says. his voice is deep - it’s the first time he’s said something, today. he kisses your head, again, and hears you sigh.

• “good morning.” you kiss his neck, and kiyoomi breathes in deeply, goose bumps scatter across his arms. your touch is addictive, he can never seem to get enough.

• “morning.” he replies. you hug him tighter, as sakusa plays with the ends of your hair. and the morning sun continues to shine through the window.

• truly, the morning’s will always be good when you’re by his side.


	7. always with me: sakusa

it’s snowing. the frosty air is merciless, and the wind is roaring. both you and Kiyoomi are inside, sitting on the sofa, your head is resting on his shoulder as you watch him reading a book. the tall floor lamp emits a muted yellow, and the thick, cream blanket keeps both you and kiyoomi cosy. the silence is comfortable - there is love found in the mundane, where simply being in each other’s presence is more than enough.

kiyoomi closes the book, and places it next to him. you crinkle your eyebrows, wondering why he has stopped reading. he then moves his body, turning to face you.

“(name)” he says.

“yeah?”

he takes your hand in his, and his fingers are warm as he softly traces the lines in your palm. he holds your hand - fingers interlaced - and looks at you as if your eyes hold the universe. you look at him, smiling. not because of the sudden gesture - kiyoomi doesn’t shy away from your touch. your touch gives him solace late into the night, and solace when dawn meets the horizon. you’re smiling, because your name always sounds lyrical coming from his mouth – his voice sounds like chimes – soothing, homely.

and you know the love, admiration he feels for you is genuine. because kiyoomi doesn’t fake emotions, nor does he do anything – whether it be playing volleyball or loving you – without giving it his all. the past four years have shown you this. and you hope, pray, dream this never ends.

the snow continues to fall, as you both stare at each other. a smile tugs at his lips, too, and he says, “marry me.”

you blink. Your mouth gapes – you’re speechless – it’s spontaneous, unexpected and very unlike him. but, perhaps, that’s what love does. it brings out a side of you, that only someone you cherish experiences. 

he’s gently squeezing your hand. _this is your hopes, prayers, dreams being answered._ you smile - wide, loud - and nod your head.

“yes! of course! kiyoomi i –“

you don’t get to finish your sentence, because he leans forward and presses his lips on yours. he holds your face in his hands, and kisses, kisses, kisses you. it’s soft, sweet and you feel him smiling against your lips. when he pulls away, you’re both breathless but indescribably happy, and so in love.

he kisses your forehead, and then your cheeks. you feel as if your insides have erupted with butterflies, your bones tingle, your heart is soaring.

“we’re engaged!” you let out a breathy laugh.

“yeah,” he says, softly. “i was going to collect the ring next week and propose to you. but i couldn’t wait.”

you bring his knuckles to your lips. “kiyoomi, it was perfect. ring or no ring, as long as i have you that’s all that matters.”

kiyoomi embraces you, he knowingly places his arms around you, and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. he smells like home – someone you’ll always come back to.

it’s snowing. the air is frosty, and the wind is roaring. but that doesn’t matter, because being in kiyoomi’s embrace always leaves you feeling warm.


	8. revealing you're pregnant: atsumu & sakusa

**atsumu:**

**☆** you found out you were pregnant whilst atsumu was away for a volleyball tournament. but lucky for you, he was due to come back today!!!!

**☆** you decided that instead of _verbally_ telling him _surprise! i’m pregnant!_ you planned on telling him _wordlessly._

 **☆** anyways... a few hours pass by and the sun has begun to set. you hear a knock on the door. you’re literally so excited and happy because atsumu’s home and also for the surprise you have for him!!!

 **☆** you open the door and are greeted with his smiling face as he enters - you both hug, kiss - all that good lovin’ stuff <3

 **☆** once he’s settled in, atsumu notices you’re really, really smiley - not that he’s complaining - and asks _what’s up?_

 **☆** you shake your head, basically swaying on the balls of your feet - you’re just really excited to see his reaction lol - and you tell him _i’m happy ‘cause you’re home!_ (which is also very true!!)

 **☆** his eyes soften at that, and gives you more and more kisses (ohhh to be kissed by atsumu *sighs dreamily*) but the makeout session is put to a halt because atsumu quickly needs to use the bathroom.

 **☆** now you feel your heart race because you’d left the pregnancy test next to the sink. (in a zip-lock bag, of course) and as you hear the bathroom door shut, internally you’re like, _aahhhhhhh i wonder how’s he gonna react?... i bet he’s gonna cry!... i should record his crying face..._

 **☆** but before you can even reach for your phone, the bathroom door abruptly opens and you hear atsumu basically sprinting. you see him holding onto the zip-lock bag, his eyes are misty (it’s okay bb, you can cry) and he’s spluttering incoherent sentences.

> _“love, what is... when did you... wait i’m...”_
> 
> _you laugh, eyes crinkling as you nod. “yes atsumu, you’re going to be a papa!”_
> 
> _it’s as if your words of confirmation clears his mind - he’s no longer stuttering but instead smiles, wide, bright. atsumu closes the distance between you two, and wraps his arms around you. his touch is tender and you feel his shoulders slightly shaking - aware that his tears are falling on your hair - you return his caress, with equal amounts of love._

**kiyoomi:**

**☆** this guy... GRRR WOOF... i will always say this: the biggest sin kiyoomi has committed is not existing irl :(

**☆** anyways, last night you found out you’re pregnant. kiyoomi is out shopping for groceries and you’re at home washing the dishes. whilst washing-up, you’re thinking about _how_ you’re going to tell him you’re pregnant. 

**☆** it’s not that you’re scared or worried - after all, you’ve both been actively trying for a while - you want to really surprise him. because this man is never caught off-guard with anything!!!. and you think it will be quite amusing to see a comical reaction from him.

**☆** the front door opens, and you walk over to the entrance to greet him home. he enters, hands occupied with shopping bags. even thought his mask covers most of his face - you know he’s smiling at you. 

**☆** kiyoomi removes his mask and goes straight to the sink - washing his hands. (as you _all_ should) he then gives you a kiss - a kiss as sweet as sugar <333.

**☆** you both begin to unpack the groceries, when a cleaning product catches your attention. with furrowed brows, you look at the label and wonder if you should be using this - y’know toxic chemicals are harmful and definitely unsafe for an unborn baby.

**☆** but!!!! you think this will be the perfect opportunity to tell kiyoomi you’re pregnant, and simultaneously catch him off-guard. 

**☆** kiyoomi notices you’ve been staring at the cleaning product for a good few seconds. he doesn’t know why you’re suddenly interested in it. he playfully squeezes your waist, which breaks you from your stupor. 

> _"are you okay?" he points to the bottle in your hand. “do you not like it?_
> 
> _“oh, i’m fine. I don’t think we should be using this!” you hum. “it’s not safe for the baby.”_

**☆** kiyoomi literally nods and continues to take out the fresh fruits from the bag, and you’re trying your best to not laugh. kiyoomi??? what’s not clicking???

**☆** suddenly, he drops the apple from his hand and turns to look at you. you can’t stop yourself from laughing. the usually composed and suave kiyoomi is wide-eyed, mouth gaping open and is speechless. 

> _“huh? what baby?... you’re pregnant?” kiyoomi asks._
> 
> _your eyes are teary from the laughter, but now, you feel your eyes water from the way he’s looking at you - eyes filled with eternal love and silent devotion. this is a look that you’ll never trade for anything._
> 
> _“i took a pregnancy test last night. the test is in the bathroom.” you smile, wobblily, “kiyoomi, we’re going to be parents.”_
> 
> _kiyoomi too, becomes teary and he kisses you - holding onto you as if you’re his lifeline._


	9. a heart aflutter: sakusa

you were never a morning person – preferring to stay in bed for as long as possible, snuggling into the duvet as you pressed _snooze_ _two,_ _three, four_ times. but, living with kiyoomi makes your mornings different. it’s different, but not unwelcome.

after all, you’re greeted with light, soft kisses on the forehead, and a _good morning_ before he leaves for his six-thirty run - making your heart weightless. and when the front door closes, you _want_ to leave the bed, _want_ to cook breakfast, _want_ to greet him home. and so, you do. because mornings include kiyoomi. as the sun rises, he’s the first person you see, speak to, eat with. your day starts with kiyoomi – a tender reminder that he is your home, salvation, future.

\---x---

_dawn is here - and so are you._

the park is empty, as you both walk on the concrete pavement. the grass is never ending, green acres stretching out. your hand is intertwined with his, palm against palm, fingers against fingers. and you mindlessly hum a song that’s been on the radio recently.

_the sky shimmers honey and marigold._

kiyoomi looks at your smile, it’s soft and quiet – perfect for mornings like these. and he thinks of a future, where you’ll both be walking this same path with silver rings - rings of eternal promise - and a baby in his arms or yours. he knows this will happen eventually, because you’re his home, salvation, future.

_the birds are singing their symphonies._

but for now, he lives in the moment – with you by his side, hands intertwined. he feels you squeeze his hand: _i love you._

and kiyoomi returns the gesture: _i love you, too._ perhaps if he were still a teenager, this would have been overwhelming, unfamiliar - to be in love, to share a part of him, to be vulnerable. but that is the past and it no longer matters, because his past didn’t have you.

_green leaves are dotted in crystal dew._

_“_ kiyoomi,” you say.

“yeah?”

“i used to hate waking up early.” 

he raises an eyebrow, amused. “i know.”

you chuckle, and he keeps the sound close to his heart. 

“but now it’s something i look forward to,” you say, thoughtfully.

he doesn’t speak, but you notice the tip of his ear turning light pink. he’s looking ahead, and the soft crinkles at the corner of his eye - tells you he’s smiling. your own smile grows.

_dawn is here – and so is kiyoomi._


	10. sweets: sakusa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 2 of dad!sakusa week.  
> checkout @donkuroo on tumblr, for part 1 :)

the sun is descending into the horizon. as the day comes to an end, kiyoomi is cutting the vegetables on the chopping board. tonight, it’s his turn to prepare dinner. he looks out the window, and the sunlight is bleeding through the blossom trees, creating shadow patterns on the grass.

 _this is nice_ , he thinks. to be _here_ , in this home they’ve created and there’s no place he’d rather be. _here_ , is where happiness lies. _here,_ is where he is reminded – the world is not so cruel.

he continues cutting the vegetables, and kiyoomi can hear her light footsteps pressing against the floor. he quietly smiles as she enters the kitchen. he turns to look, and sees his daughter standing with a smile on her face, too. her black curly hair, wild, and her eyes, molten grey. _she’s a carbon copy of you!_ is what you always say, and he agrees – he prides himself on this.

he puts the knife down, and washes his hand and asks, “are you okay?”

she nods her head, but kiyoomi knows she wants something. after all, he is her father. he notices she’s looking up towards the cabinets, he follows her line of vision and raises an eyebrow, amused.

_the sweet cabinet._

“i want chocolate, papa,” she says.

he shakes his head, “no darling, it’s late.”

she pouts, scrunching her eyebrows together, reminding him of you. she walks up to him, and gently pulls his shirt, “please, papa.”

“dinner’s almost ready,” he gently reminds her. still, kiyoomi’s aware she is insistent – there is fire in her soul, and she is determined. again, he is reminded, she truly is her mother’s daughter.

she’s pouting, and he knows he shouldn’t, but the resolve he barely has starts to crack - like a porcelain vase. perhaps, now is the time to spoil her – one day she’ll be tall enough to reach the cabinets herself, there will be no need to ask papa. so, for now, he’ll carry her until he no longer can.

“one chocolate, please.”

he sighs, lifting her up into his arms, and she wraps her own arms around his neck, giggling. he kisses the side of her head, and says, “don’t tell mama, okay?”

“okay!” she says right back.

kiyoomi opens the cabinet and her eyes light up, excited. he smiles at her wondering, as he takes out a chocolate bar, giving it to his daughter.

“caught you!”

Kiyoomi stills as he hears your voice, but there’s amusement laced in your tone. he closes the cabinet and turns around, his face neutral.

“mama!” she says.

“did papa give you chocolate?”

she doesn’t answer, keeping her lips sealed and kiyoomi smirks at you, knowing she won’t tell on him.

you huff in mock annoyance, but smile and think, _fatherhood really suits kiyoomi._ you always think this – it’s not an easy role to fulfil, there were worries, doubt, fear. there still is and will probably always be there. still, as you watch him now, unwrapping the chocolate bar, and feeding it to your daughter – you have never felt more at peace.

“here,” he says, softly.

you look up at him, and he’s offering you a piece of chocolate. grinning, you open your mouth, and he places it in. kiyoomi leans forward, and his lips are warm as he presses a kiss on your forehead. your daughter reciprocates, and messily kisses your cheeks. you laugh, feeling free and airy.

 _this is nice_ , you think. to be here, at home.


	11. steps: sakusa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 4 of dad!sakusa week.  
> checkout @donkuroo on tumblr, for part 1 and 3.  
> and @softsakusa for part 2

outside, it is warm.

as you lay on the grass, you hear the cicadas strumming their wings, and the wind’s quiet whispering.

a quiet _well done_ and _that’s it!_ reaches your ear, his voice is soft around the edges, different to how he speaks to his rambunctious teammates. it’s loving, caring - but most importantly, proud.

you turn your head to the side and smile, as you watch kiyoomi teaching your daughter to walk. he stands behind her, his hands wrapped around her upper arms, and she slowly but steadily takes a step forward.

you look at kiyoomi’s face, he doesn’t realise you’re staring at him, but that’s okay. because he’s staring at your daughter as if he’s holding the universe in his hands - like he’s holding onto the stars and moon. but, you know, in this moment in time, kiyoomi has never felt more grounded.

realising they’re both walking towards you - you sit up, and feel the sunlight touching your back. turning your body to face them, you stretch your arms out, inviting your daughter into your embrace.

you cheer her on, and she giggles as her body sways forward. you don’t worry about her falling, kiyoomi’s hold on her never falters, because he will always be there for her - this is something you’re certain of.

she’s almost within your reach when she abruptly stops walking. you and kiyoomi stare at each other, both wondering if she’s okay. she tilts her head up, smiling, as she says _papa!_

kiyoomi chuckles at her affection and bends down further to place a kiss on her head, and she giggles when his black curls tickle her face. he lifts his head and looks towards you, noticing you’ve been recording this on your phone, and he raises an eyebrow.

“kiyoomi, you’re so cute!” you hum, “but our daughter’s even cuter!”

you place the phone down – another memory immortalised, another memory to look back on – and continue your encouragement. after a few more wobbly steps, you catch your daughter in your arms, hugging her and lifting her up in the air, whilst proudly declaring: _our daughter’s amazing!_

he sits next you, shoulders touching, and his eyes soften - the afternoon sun shimmers _gold_ on your hair, _gold_ like the smile you’re wearing, _gold_ like your laughter.

you don’t realise him staring at you, but that’s okay. because he’s looking at you as if you’re the moon and stars themselves. but, he knows, in this moment in time, he has never felt more grounded.


	12. three little gifts: sakusa

**1.**

the paper is a colourful mess.

pink, red, blue, orange decorate the paper. he thinks he sees green, too, hidden beneath the whirlwind of colours. truthfully, kiyoomi doesn’t know what he’s looking at – but it doesn’t matter to him. after all, art is subjective – there is no right answer. she drew for him, with love, with her papa in mind – and so, the colours and scribbles become far more meaningful.

and when he looks at her smile – front tooth missing – kiyoomi smiles right back, and says, _“let’s put this on the fridge.”_

she runs towards the kitchen, and kiyoomi follows with her drawing in his hand.

**2.**

the rock is covered in mud.

it’s brown, smooth, and small. but he thinks, in her palm – it’s huge.

he crinkles his nose at the sight of her hands – also covered in mud. before he can tell her to wash her hands, she says, “ _papa, this rock is for you!”_

kiyoomi hears you laugh behind him, amused by this situation. you ask, “ _darling, where’s my rock?”_

_“sorry mama, papa first.”_

this time, kiyoomi softly laughs when he hears your dramatic gasp, and his daughter giggling. he shows her his palm, and she happily plops the grubby rock in his hand.

he carries her to the sink – and as she washes her hand, kiyoomi diligently cleans the rock. kiyoomi doesn’t throw it away, instead, he keeps the small rock in his sports bag.

(a week later, he travels for an away game. before he leaves his hotel room, he looks into his sports bag, and finds the rock in the smallest compartment. a reminder: a piece of home is here, with him. 

he smiles.)

**3.**

the cherry blossoms are here. 

he watches the petals fall effortlessly towards the ground. a sea of pinks beneath his feet, and the petals slither and scatter in the spring breeze. 

_“papa.”_

he looks down at her, and her arms are stretched out - wanting to be carried. he lifts her into his arms and she leans her head against his - he too, does the same. she points at the cherry blossom tree and says, _“papa, can i have one?”_

kiyoomi hums, he’s tall enough to reach the lowest branch, with one hand he carefully picks out a single flower. he passes it to her, and she kisses his cheek, “ _thank you, papa.”_

she takes the cherry blossom, and tucks it behind his ear. surprised, he looks at her, and she smiles widely, her eyes crinkling, _“for papa!”_ she says. 

kiyoomi chuckles, endeared. and when he notices you leaving the house, walking towards them, he asks, _“a flower for mama too?”_

his daughter nods, giggling. he lifts his head, staring at the sun-sprinkled tree – the flowers are in bloom, and so is his heart.


	13. years and years: sakusa

he’s **seven** and you’re his new neighbour. his parents are talking to yours, and you’re standing behind your mother, holding onto her legs. kiyoomi’s dad introduces him, and your mother introduces you. he doesn’t say anything -neither do you. 

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **sixteen** and kiyoomi tells you he’s been invited to the all-japan youth training camp. you’re sitting at his desk and doing your homework, and he’s lying in bed. you spin the chair around, congratulating him with a sincere smile. he tries his best to ignore the butterflies floating around in his stomach.

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **ten** and unamused. your knees are scraped and kiyoomi berates you for being so clumsy. you sniffle as you stand, and he takes out a clean tissue from his pocket, telling you to wipe your tears. he loosely holds onto your wrist, both walking home. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **twenty** and naked. kiyoomi leans his chest onto your back, his arm is wrapped around your waist, thrusting into you languidly. he leaves featherlight kisses on your shoulders, as you moan his name into the pillow. and when he pulls and tweaks your nipples, he feels you clenching around him - asking for more. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **seventeen** and in love. it’s not a ground-breaking discovery. these - warm, passionate, tender, strong - feelings have always existed, but it’s only now he acknowledges them. and as you walk beside him, wearing his volleyball jacket in this autumn chill - he finally lets the butterflies within him, fly freely. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **eighteen** and his lips are on yours. he’s nervous, unsure, knowing he lacks the finesse. but when you whisper _i love you too, kiyoomi_ against his lips, his previous thoughts start to simmer, and he kisses you once, twice, three times. and by the time he pulls away, you’re both breathless, smiling and in love. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **twenty-one** and this is home. there are cardboard boxes everywhere, and it will take time to unpack. but for now, he watches you sitting on the floor, trying to assemble the coffee table. the afternoon sun filters through the apartment window, covering the room in marigold and honey.

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **eight** and watching tv. his mother invited you over, and kiyoomi only nods at you before placing his attention back onto the tv. the sofa dips as you sit next to him. time passes and your stomach grumbles, and you giggle sheepishly. he gets up, walks towards the kitchen, asking his mother for food. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **twenty-six** and grocery shopping. you’re pushing the trolley, as he looks through the shopping list, double checking that the necessary items are in the trolley. you stroll into the baby aisle, and he looks at you confused. _let’s buy a pregnancy test_ you hum. he blinks and then smiles.

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **fifteen** and it’s his birthday. you’re at his house with a homemade pamper set. when you pass it to him, his fingers touch yours and something flutters in his stomach. you stay for a while - both eating cake, and kiyoomi looks at the pamper set. the box is filled with his favourite toiletries, his favourite hand sanitisers and face masks. the thought and effort put towards this, only makes the fluttering in his stomach, intensify. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **twenty-three** and worried. it’s been hours and you still haven’t returned. the sun is beginning to set, and you left without your phone. kiyoomi knows he can’t blame anyone but himself. he knows he shouldn’t have shouted at you, he knows you were only trying to help, and yet…

…he hears the front door open. relieved, he walks towards the entrance - with an apology coming from the depths of his heart. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **thirteen** and confused. he thinks there’s something different about you. nothing drastic, instead, it’s subtle - he can’t exactly pinpoint what’s different. you glance at him, and kiyoomi realises he’s been caught staring. wanting to clear up any misunderstandings - he says, _your face_ _looks different._ you chuckle, and tell him you’re wearing mascara and lip-gloss. he stares at your lips, before quickly looking away. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **twenty-four** and preparing dinner. it’s a lazy day, the rain is light and the clouds are grey. you’re sitting on the kitchen counter, reading a book. as he cuts the carrots on the chopping board, you ask if you can have a piece. he hums, putting a small piece of carrot in your mouth, and you thank him with a kiss on the cheek. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **nine** and at the park. it’s quiet today - the slide, climbing frame and other equipment are untouched. you’re sitting on the swing, and you ask kiyoomi to push you. he huffs, but you promise to push him on the swing after - secretly, he doesn’t mind the offer. and so, he pushes you, and watches as you fly towards the sky. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **twenty-five** and standing at the altar. you’re walking down the aisle, white dress shimmering softly beneath the sunlight, and kiyoomi is in awe. it feels like the world has stopped spinning and it’s only you and him, existing. you’re glowing, it’s as if heavens light itself is touching you. in a few moments time, you’re both going to be exchanging vows, rings and a kiss of eternal promise. and as you meet him at the alter, standing by his side, he is ready to begin this new chapter.

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **twelve** and annoyed. he realises he’s left his bento at home, lunch has just begun and he’s hungry. you wave your hand in front of his face, breaking him from his stupor. kiyoomi hadn’t realised you joined your table with his. you sit in front of him, and smile knowingly as you offer him your food.he has after-school practice today, and he’s aware playing on an empty stomach isn’t ideal.sighing, he takes out his hand sanitiser, sanitising his hand and offers you some. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **nineteen** and on cloud nine. you’re slick and warm and tight. you’re bouncing on his length, hands on his shoulders. everything about this is hot, sweaty and fast. he pulls out, and you whimper at the loss, but kiyoomi kisses you as he lays you down on the bed, and his lips doesn’t leave yours when he enters again. he hisses when you dig your nails into his skin, grunting at the sting. he wraps your legs around his waist, thrusting into you deeper, faster.

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **twenty-two** and it’s his first game as a member of msby. he scans the audience, looking for a familiar face. the synthetic lights are bright, there are cameras at all four corners of the stadium. he suddenly finds you, you’re smiling brightly and waving at him. he doesn’t wave back, but he does send a smile only reserved for you. the game is about to start, the crowd begins to settle, and kiyoomi stands on the court - ready to face his opponents. 

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **fourteen** and you’re giving him the silent treatment. you hadn’t spoken to him at school all week - blatantly ignoring him, every time you walked past him. all he has to do is apologise - he knows he’s in the wrong, and quite frankly, he misses you. so, he puts his pride to the side and goes to your house. kiyoomi knocks on the door, and it’s you who opens it. you’re both staring at each other, but then you smile, and open the door wider.

***★,°*:.☆**

he’s **twenty-seven** and she’s so small. she’s only been in this world for three days, and yet he can’t imagine life without her. she’s sleeping in his arms, as kiyoomi gently sways her side to side. he kisses her on the head and she stirs - tiny arms twitching. she opens her eyes, her lips frowning, and kiyoomi smiles. 


	14. a road to somewhere: atsumu

he’s **fifteen** and in maths class. he’s sitting next to the window, and the sunlight is warm on his face. atsumu hears someone quietly calling out his name, he turns his head to the side, and you're looking at him with a smile. you ask, _can i borrow a pen? my pen ran out of ink._ he nods, the same giddy feeling he’s had for the past few months, erupts within his stomach. time passes, the lesson ends, and he lets you keep his pen.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-four** and abroad. he’s smiling at his screen, watching you talk. it’s not the same as talking to you in real life. right now, you’re pixilated, you’re near and yet so far. still, no matter how much he travels, no matter how far the distance is between him and you - he will always return home. after all, home is where you are.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **nineteen** and you’re dyeing his hair. he’s sitting at the edge of the bath and listens to you hum, as you put on the plastic gloves. you begin to slather the product into his hair, with the hair-dyeing brush. his shoulders relax, and he wraps his arms around your waist - drawing invisible, intimate circles on your hips. and he thinks, sometimes, it’s nice to have slow days. 

(more than nice.)

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-five** and on top of the world. adrenaline is coursing through his veins. he has dreamt of this day for so long - to play at the olympics. he sees you in the audience, with the japan flag wrapped around your shoulders, and painted on your cheek and you’re smiling wide. and he remembers your constant support, remembers you’ve been him through the highs and lows. the game begins, he spins the ball between his hands, tossing it into the air, and thinks of you.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **seventeen** and his team has lost. he blinks away the tears, when kita gives his last speech as captain. he knows there will always be winners and losers. and today, they are the latter. later that night, he goes on his phone and realises you’d sent him a text earlier. he reads the message, and gently grips his phone, tiredly smiling. 

_i’m glad you convinced me to watch. you were amazing! :D_

he closes his eyes, sleep finally coming to him, and the defeat feels a little less heavy. 

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-three** and breathless. your legs are hanging over his shoulders, and his face is between your thighs. he relishes the sounds you make - the sighs, moans, whines. atsumu slides two fingers into you, and you’re so wet. you start to grind down on him, and the taste of you on his tongue, is something he’ll never have enough of. your legs shake, and he knows you’re close - his fingers, and tongue work towards the finish line and -

\- you fall apart, gripping onto his hair, tight, chanting his name. he sits up, watching as you come down from your high. he hovers over your face, and kisses you, senseless. 

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-six** and on one knee. the moon shimmers silver in the rural countryside. this is the place where it all began, where he first met and fell in love with you. _will you marry me?_ your eyes begin to water, and answer, _yes! of course, i’ll marry you!_ elated, atsumu slides the ring down your finger, stands on his feet, and picks you up - bridal style. you circle your arms around his shoulders, and he spins you around in his arms. you’re both laughing, smiling and he doesn’t hide his tears. 

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-two** and apartment shopping. he’s staring at the different cutlery, wondering which cutlery set to buy. atsumu hears you chuckling - he turns his head to look at you, and raises an eyebrow. you laugh and say, _you look so serious!_ he grins and replies, _this is a serious matter. our kitchen has to look the best!_

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-eight** and excited. he places his hands on your ever-growing stomach. he waits in anticipation...

... suddenly he feels a gentle push against his palms, you’re giggling and atsumu eyes widen - in awe. and as he kisses your bump, he thinks everything feels right in the world. 

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty** and thankful. your tears have dried, his apologies have been said. but atsumu still continues to show how sorry he is. hands intertwined, atsumu slowly, deeply rolls his hips against yours. your head is lolled back into the pillow, and with his tongue and teeth, he decorates your exposed neck with reds and pinks. he groans at how tight you are, pulsing around him. and when you breathlessly whisper _i love you..._

...he truly is, thankful.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **eighteen** and it’s now or never. the cherry blossoms are in bloom, and you’re both graduating. so, atsumu stands beneath the pink petals, nervous, and shows you the second button of his school uniform. you smile shyly, and take the button from the palm of his hand, accepting his confession. and his heart soars beyond the spring sky, when his lips meet yours. 

*★,°*:.☆ 

he’s **twenty-seven** and ill. his body feels lethargic, heavy, and hot. he hears the bedroom door open, and your footsteps are light as you walk towards the bed. you sit beside him, and place a cold cloth on his forehead. atsumu hums in appreciation, whispering a hoarse _thank you._

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **sixteen** and embarrassed. he’s currently on the floor, red faced. luckily, the school hallway is empty and no one had seen him trip and fall. he’s about to reach for his bag, when suddenly a hand - smaller, softer than his - picks it up before him. he looks up, and you’re standing with your lips pursed - blatantly trying not to laugh...

... you saw him fall. atsumu wants the ground to swallow him whole. but then, you offer him your hand - and with a sheepish smile, his calloused hand meets yours. 

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-one** and it’s his birthday. you’re at his apartment, and you gifted him a mini karaoke machine. with one hand he sings into the microphone - to his heart’s content - and the other holds a half-empty bottle of beer. you cheer him on, and atsumu laughs freely, feeling light on his feet. with flushed cheeks, he dedicates the next song, to you. 

*★,°*:.☆ 

he’s **twenty-nine** and smiling. he’s leaning against the bed, holding his son in his arms. he wriggles his fingers on the baby’s stomach - tiny limbs start to squirm around, and then the baby toothlessly smiles, and laughs. atsumu keeps the sound close to his heart.


	15. the wind of ages: oikawa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mention of blood - nothing gruesome, just a nosebleed.  
> alcohol - oikawa drunk.  
> emetophobia - vomit is mentioned.

he’s **twelve** and you’re hajime’s new neighbour. tooru pouts, as he watches both you and hajime talk. he feels like he’s third wheeling, and he can’t help but feel slightly jealous. after all, iwa-chan is _his_ best friend – so why is he so smiley and friendly towards you? he whines, _iwa-chan! let’s practice volleyball!_ hajime nods, and tooru smiles but the smile turns into a frown, when hajime asks if you want to join them. perhaps you notice tooru’s poorly concealed irritation, because you shake your head and reply, _it’s fine. you two play. I need to get home._

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **twenty** and in japan. he’s at his family home, sitting under the kotatsu. outside, the snow is falling and the wind is strong. tooru wonders where home is. is it here, in japan? or is home argentina? it’s strange, he thinks. he remembers when he first moved to argentina, and the difficulties of living in a new country. but now, a year has passed, and he’s fallen into a comfortable routine, abroad. still, there are days when he misses his mother’s cooking, but the feeling isn’t as heavy as it once was. the doorbell rings, and his mother opens the door. he hears footsteps entering the living room, and it’s you. he blinks and is speechless. after all, tooru hasn’t seen you for over a year. smiling wide, you say _tooru! it’s been so long!_ he stands, walks towards you, and you both embrace. he’s missed this, missed you. neither of you let go of each other, and tooru is fine with that. minutes pass, and it’s you who lets go first - but your hands are still on his arms. looking at him, you say, _tooru you’ve grown so much!_ he chuckles and replies, _well of course. i’m not a high-schooler anymore!_ the snowfall grows and the wind cries louder, but both you and tooru are sitting under the kotatsu, reminiscing, laughing, smiling. and as he looks at your smile, eyes crinkling - home, tooru realises, is where his heart belongs. and his heart belongs in both japan and argentina.

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **sixteen** and it’s valentine’s day. he’s received letters, cookies, chocolates. some – with shy smiles, and hopeful eyes – have given him honmei choco. tooru appreciates the gifts, he really does. but he’s simply not interested, and it’s not because his standards are ridiculously high, or that dating is frivolous. it’s because he has no time. after all, volleyball is an insisting mistress – it takes up most of his schedule. and because of this, tooru cannot commit to a relationship, cannot give a person his all _–_

(perhaps one day in the future...)

 _– tooru!_ you say. he looks up, and you’re standing in front his desk, holding a small translucent plastic bag, and inside it are small pieces of chocolate. homemade, he thinks. you stretch your arm out, smiling, and say, _I forgot to give this to you in the morning. happy valentine’s day!_ tooru accepts the chocolate, thanking you. he watches you leave the classroom, and his smile remains. later at volleyball practice, tooru learns that you had given hajime store brought chocolate.

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **twenty-five** and no longer living alone. everywhere he looks, there’s a piece of you – your toothbrush, your clothes in the wardrobe, your shoes at the entrance – and it still feels unreal. unreal: he can now hold you, kiss you, make love to you. once, oceans and seas were a barrier between the two of you. you were the sun, and he was the moon – both on opposites sides, never meeting. still, tooru is not ignorant, he knows there will be days when you yearn for familiarity. he too, was in your position years ago. and he tells you this, tells you not to bare it alone, tells you it’s okay to feel homesick. you look at him, fondly - and tooru thinks the years have treated you well -and then, you rest your head against his shoulder, drawing invisible patterns on his arms, and say, _as long as I have you, i’ll be fine._

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **twenty-two** and an idiot. his teammates are at his apartment, and he’s drank a little too much alcohol. he doesn’t mind, though - it’s nice to have them here, relaxing, with the western sun touching his apartment. the alcohol’s starting to kick in, and the world starts to blur. he imagines hajime, issei, and takahiro teasing him for being a lightweight. he wonders if you’d join them in their playful banter? or would you rub his back as he sticks his head in the toilet bowl? a few drinks later, his teammates leave, and tooru can barely stand on his feet. perhaps it’s liquid courage, because he hazily unlocks his phone, and calls you. you answer, but tooru does not let you speak. _i love you. i love you so much,_ he babbles. _i miss you, and I wish i could kiss you -_

_\- tooru_ , you whisper. and suddenly, he freezes, perhaps it’s the shock because he feels very sober, now. and he wants to bury his head into his pillow, pretending this is all a dream – but it’s not. tooru panics _, i – i’m so sorry. i don’t know why i...i’ve got to go._ he hears you call out his name, and say, _wait! don’t hang up –_ he presses the red button and tooru has the sudden urge to cry. instead, he keeps the tears at bay, and runs toward the toilet, emptying his stomach – alone.

(later that night, he does shed a few tears when you text him:

> _tooru! why did you hang up? i wanted to tell you that i love you too! call me when you wake up! sleep tight, idiot :p_

> _also, i wanna kiss you too._

he falls asleep, thinking of hopeful tomorrows.)

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **eighteen** and leaving. the world’s a big place and there is so much to see, so much to learn. even though high school is over – volleyball is not. there are things left unsaid at the airport, you hug him, he hugs you. you tell him, _i’ll miss you_ , and he replies, _i’m gonna miss you too_. then there’s a moment of silence. tooru looks at you, your eyes, nose, lips, hair – committing it to memory because who knows when he’ll see you next? life is unpredictable, and tooru knows this best. he’s leaving everything behind, stepping into the unknown. but if tooru does not take a step forward, then he cannot grow. and so, he holds onto his suitcase, passport, dreams, and looks ahead.

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **twenty-six** and newly married. the melody hums in the background, as you both slowly dance in circles. these are the hands hardened by volleyball, these are the hands that give monster serves – his hands are made for the court he plays on. and they were also made for holding your hands as he said his vows, made for holding your face as he kissed you, after saying _, i do_. now, his hands are on your waist, both dancing towards the cosmos. family and friends from japan are here, too. hajime, takahiro, issei – they’re here. you’re all older and wiser, a lot has changed since high-school – life has taken you all on different journeys. still, one thing that hasn’t changed, is the unwavering bond you all share. tooru twirls you around, and perhaps this is closest thing to heaven on earth - to be in your embrace, to be showered in your love. he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, tenfold. and he remembers thinking at sixteen, _perhaps one day in the future…_

…the future is here.

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **thirteen** and it’s quiet. hajime’s ill, and so, both him and you are walking to school. normally, hajime’s the middleman – the one who carries the conversation between the two of you. he looks down at the ground, and from the corner of his eye, he notices your shoelace is untied. without thinking, he calls out your name, pointing at your shoe and says, _your shoelace._ you look down, and whisper a quiet, _oh._ you bend down, tying your shoelace, and tooru thinks it’s the perfect opportunity to leave you. after all, hajime isn’t here to tell him off, if he does. but he doesn’t leave, instead, he’s waiting for you. tooru looks up at the clear, blue sky. it’s going to be warm today, he can feel it.

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **twenty-four** and you’re visiting argentina. these are streets tooru knows like the back of his hand, after all, he’s been living here since he was eighteen. every sign, every road, every turn is ingrained within him. however, this time it is different. tooru is walking on these streets - with you, hands intertwined. entering the local café, you both sit next to the windows, and the sun filters through the glass walls, covering the café in lemon and amber. _i’m going to order_ , he says. _is there anything you’d like?_ you hum, _surprise me._ nodding, he walks to the counter, placing an order in spanish, and when he turns around, walking back to the small table, he raises his brow at your smile. _what?_ he asks. you reply, _tooru, i don’t think i’ll ever get used to you speaking in spanish. you sound so attractive._ tooru chuckles, playfully nudging your foot, beneath the table.

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **fourteen** and at the school library. school has ended, and there is no volleyball practice today, so the three of you are completing homework. you’re sitting opposite to him, eyes focused on the worksheet. he watches you twiddle the pencil between your fingers, eyebrows crinkling. the dim, synthetic lights shine down, and the scent of old, new, forgotten books, lingers. you look up, and tooru quickly faces down, staring at paper in front of him. _hajime, i’m stuck on question five. can you help?_ you ask. tooru pouts, he’s already answered question five. why not ask him for help? _i’m still on question three. ask oikawa, he’s answered it,_ hajime replies. tooru senses you’re feeling awkward to ask for help. so, he stands, and moves to sit on the chair next to you, and asks, _what are you finding difficult?_

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **twenty-three** and it’s dawn. the sun steadily rises over the horizon, and the birds sing their morning song. one hand holds his cup of coffee, he swallows a sip and it’s fresh on his tongue. his other hand is holding his phone, facetiming you. it’s not easy being in a long-distance relationship. he’s twelve hours behind, when he wakes – you sleep. sometimes, days pass without talking to each other – because life is always on the move. long gone are the days of after school karaoke, and late-night video games. now, you’re both adults, with jobs to fulfil and bills to pay - so, promises of continuous communication will inevitably be broken. but that’s okay, because he’s always thinking of you – your smile, your laugh, your eyes that sparkle like shooting stars. and now, as he watches you eat your evening meal, and talking about your day – he has never felt more in love. _tooru,_ you smile. _yeah?_ he hums…

_…i love you_.

tooru thinks, no matter where he is in the world, your _i love you’s_ will always sound like musical sonnets - three words sung to him, effortlessly.

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **seventeen** and his knee hurts. they’re currently on break, some of the members have gone to refill their water bottles, and others are sitting on the floor. tooru is doing the latter. he tries his best to ignore the growing ache in his knee. it’s okay, he thinks. they only have an hour left, and he can last until then. once break is over, tooru stands, and he hisses but stops himself from grabbing his knee. hajime narrows his eyes at him, and tooru smiles – maybe a little too wide for his own liking. the gym door opens and it’s you, looking unimpressed. tooru wonders why you’re here, but then he notices your holding his knee brace. he feels his cheeks turn warm and red, trying to ignore hajime’s smirk. you wave at them both, and then place the brace down onto the floor. now it’s you who narrows your eyes at tooru, pointing at his knee, then at the brace. you leave wordlessly, and hajime says, _shittykawa, there are literal hearts in your eyes._ tooru pouts, hoping his red cheeks have simmered. _iwa-chan, do you have to be so vulgar?_ still, he does not deny hajime’s statement.

_★,°*:.☆_

he’s **twenty-eight** and his cheeks are flushed. how many rounds has it been? one? two? three? he doesn’t remember. right now, all he can think about is you. skin on skin, lips on lips - his thrusts increase, and as you arch your back, he swallows your whines and moans with his mouth. you’re dripping, staining the bedsheet, and tooru grunts at how tight you are around him. you’re both covered in a sheen of sweat, the mattress creaks whenever his hips meet yours, and he looks down at you, in a dreamy daze. he places your leg over his shoulder, and the position lets him in deeper, closer. and tooru feels incredibly lucky, when you hold his face, crying out his name.

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s  **fifteen** and bleeding. his nose stings – red, bruised, and bloody – and tooru thinks hajime’s head is made of metal. as they both exist the gym, tooru notices you’re waiting outside. it’s become an unspoken tradition – to sometimes wait for the boys, and then walk home together. your eyes widen at the sight of tooru, and you quickly take out a clean tissue from your pocket, gently pressing it on his nose.  _ hajime! what the hell? why did you punch him? _ you ask _. headbutt,  _ tooru corrects, under his breath. hajime scowls, but his voice is soft when he says,  _ he was being an idiot, i had to bring him to his senses. _ tooru can feel the tender pressure of your fingers on his nose. it’s soothing, he thinks. the sting doesn’t feel too bad, now. in the spur of the moment, he places his hand over yours, and when you don’t remove your hand from his nose, he gently tightens his grip.  _ well? have you come to your senses?  _ you ask...

...tooru smiles. 

_ *★,°*:.☆ _

he’s **nineteen** and homesick. he’s lying-in bed, staring up at the ceiling. it’s been six months since moving to argentina, but his longing for home hasn’t left. he knows it will take time to adjust, after all, this is a new country – new people, new culture, new language. he sighs, turning on his side, and grabs his phone from the bedside table. tooru scrolls through his photo gallery and stops at a photo of him and you at graduation. he smiles softly at the photo – his arm around your shoulders, and you’re throwing the camera a peace sign. he wonders, are you asleep? – it’s 11pm in japan. as soon as he puts the phone down on the table, it rings. he grabs it again and it’s your name appearing on his screen. smiling, he presses the answer button, placing the phone against his ear. in your voice, he finds comfort on days like these, and so he listens. yes, you may be twelve hours ahead, but both him and you share the same sky, sun, and moon. and for now, that is enough.

_* ★ ,°*:.☆_

he’s **twenty-seven** and wearing blue. it’s not been an easy journey, to be standing here, and he feels fortunate. after all, he is oikawa tooru – the ordinary. he has worked hard, this did not come to him easily – the years of blood, sweat and tears, prove that. and some may call it a curse: to be overshadowed by geniuses like wakatoshi, and tobio. but when he sees you in the audience - your smile lovelier than flowers and rainbows – with the argentinian flag circled around your shoulders, tooru knows, ordinary is anything but a curse. instead, is its own kind of special.

_*★,°*:.☆_

he’s **twenty-one** and catching-up with someone familiar. to think he’d meet shoyo – of all people – in brazil. they have dinner together and talk – tooru explains his move to argentina, explains his admiration for jose blanco - who’d inspired him to become a setter. and it’s funny, he thinks – talking candidly to shoyo about himself. his high-school self would’ve have been unamused – but the past is the past, there’s no point in dwelling on what’s already been done. tooru talks about hajime, also mentioning you. _oh! oikawa-san, is she your girlfriend?_ shoyo asks. tooru blinks, fondly smiling. _no, but she’s had my heart for a while._ shoyo giggles, and tooru’s smile widens – he suddenly feels like a love-struck schoolboy. (he may no longer be a schoolboy, but he is love-struck) _how long?_ shoyo asks. _since high school_ , he replies. shoyo picks up his glass, taking a sip. _are you going to confess?_ tooru doesn’t answer, and his smile doesn’t falter. a week later, tooru and shoyo play beach volleyball together - and then some more. it’s difficult at first. he has the ball in his hands, but the wind and sand surrounding the ball, are foreign. but beach volleyball or not - a setter is a setter. he quickly adapts, and as the sun sprinkles gold onto his back, he remembers, volleyball truly is wonderful.

★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-nine** and love is always blooming. tooru’s lying-in bed, and your head is tucked under his chin, sleeping soundly. he presses his lips on the top of your head, you don’t stir, you stay in place under the arm gently wrapped around you. the moon is a silver coin in the night sky, its light wavering off the endless ocean. he softly smiles, your bump is starting to show, and he brings his palm to your stomach. the months will pass, your stomach will continue to grow, and then one day, they’ll be here – in his arms. it’s only a matter of time. tooru closes his eyes – dreaming of all things bright and beautiful – and he hopes, for now and forever, this never ends.


	16. the promise of the world: sakusa

he says, _i love you_ beneath a cherry tree. its petals pink and luscious against the clear, blue sky. kiyoomi words are quiet, he speaks softly – three intricate words only meant for you _. i love you_ : there are no fireworks, nor are there violins humming at his confession. instead, it is simply another tuesday – school children running home, businessmen on their phones, and the sun shining, brilliantly. 

it is unlike kiyoomi to suddenly say _: i love you_. after all, he knows the sentimental weight these three words hold. to say _i love you_ means vulnerability, promises, commitment.

he knows this, and yet –

– with you, a lifetime of love is natural. natural like the earth flowers bloom from. kiyoomi did not thoughtlessly say _i love you_. his feelings for you have been slowly building. there is no heated rush, no overflowing of emotions.

and when you look at him with softened eyes, kiyoomi does not say anything else, hoping you understand his feelings for you.

(you do.

because you say _, i love you too, kiyoomi_.)

it is a quiet confession. some may call it underwhelming, but for both him and you, it’s more than enough – after all, love does not always have to be so loud.

you smile, a smile like the summer wind – warm and inviting. you both begin to walk, side by side, and he looks at you. if he were a poet, kiyoomi thinks, he would write his love for you in lyrics, and your beauty in sonnets.


	17. merry-go-round of life

he’s **fifteen** and happy. tetsurou has received full marks on his chemistry exam. he turns his head, and smirks – you’re clearly avoiding his gaze. he stands up, chair scraping against the floor, and walks towards you. _what?_ you look at him, brows furrowing. he smirks, dangling his paper in front of your face. he asks, _what did you get?_ with your hand, you swat the paper away from your face. _none of your business._ he smiles, widely, knowing his smile is annoying you. _well, as you can see_ , he obnoxiously points at his paper _. i got full marks!_ you grumble. _yeah, I can see._ you click your teeth as you take your test paper out from your school bag, showing it to him. _oh, i thought you could do better?_ he grins…

… _shut up, kuroo!_

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **still fifteen** and annoyed. tetsurou has his biology exam in his hand, and the mark he’s received isn’t the best. the grade isn’t bad, in fact, most students with his grade would be pleased. but it’s a little low for his own liking – he knows he can do better. he places the paper on the desk, and at the same time, you walk towards him. tetsurou tries to hide his grade with his hand, so that you can’t see - he’s too slow because you look at him smugly. he sighs. _what did you get?_ you show him your paper, proudly smirking. _higher than you_. he stares at your paper, then at you, pouting.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **sixteen** and it’s summer. tetsurou is walking to the vending machine, he jiggles the loose coins in his hand, wondering what drink he should buy. as he walks across the courtyard, he notices you’re sitting on the bench, reading a book. your face is relaxed, peaceful- different from the usual frown you always give him. the eastern sun shimmers citrine on your face and hair. cherry blossom trees are circled around you, tetsurou gazes at the pinks and whites. perhaps you realise he’s standing there, because you raise your face, eyes meeting. he quickly looks away, and your attention goes back to the book, continuing to read.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **still sixteen** and it’s raining. he dips his calloused fingers into his school bag, checking if he has his umbrella. he doesn’t. tetsurou sighs - how is he supposed to walk home? he’s standing at the entrance, and the heavy downpour tells him the rain will not be stopping, anytime soon. a few minutes pass, and he sees you. you don’t acknowledge him, but he calls out your name. you stop in front of him, and he notices the umbrella in your hand. _what?_ you ask. he grins _. it’s raining and i don’t have my umbrella._ your voice is blank when you say, _okay, and?_ tetsurou points at your umbrella, asking _, can we share?_ you look at him, unamused. _we’re not in a shoujo-manga._ _wait for the rain to stop, rooster-head._ the teasing grin leaves his face, and you leave the building, umbrella shielding you from the rain…

_…hey! don’t call me that!_

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **seventeen** and it’s lunch. morisuke and nobuyuki are in his classroom, joining him for lunch. and they talk about volleyball – upcoming practice matches, their individual training regime. somehow, the conversation veers away from volleyball, instead, talking about their preference in girls. morisuke looks at tetsurou, sipping his drink. _kai and i spoke about our types_ , he says. _what about you kuroo?_ he tilts his head up, staring at the ceiling, and tetsurou thinks of you – baffled with himself, he mentally shakes away your face from his mind. he looks at both morisuke and nobuyuki, lazily shrugging his shoulders. thankfully, the bell rings, and the two boys return to their class. as he puts his bento back into his bag, tetsurou looks at you – sitting at the front of the class, facing forward. he wonders if you had heard their conversation.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **still** **seventeen** and you’re his partner. both him and you have been assigned to work together for a class project. he joins his desk with yours, sitting across from you. _okay, let’s start with a plan_ , you say. he nods, and watches as you pull your pencil case and sheets of paper out from your bag, organising your belongings on the desk. he looks at you, thoughtfully, it’s been one and half years since meeting you. he knows – when it comes to studying and exams - you view him as a ‘rival’. and to some extent, he does too. he remembers first year - the comparing of grades, the snarky remarks if one didn’t do as well as the other. but now there’s less of that – of course, there still is the occasional snarky remark, and comparing of grades. you’re less hostile, and when you talk to him there’s no bite behind your words. truthfully, he doesn’t mind, at all. he prefers this…

…you poke your pen on his forehead, sitting back down on the chair. _hey!_ he rubs his forehead with his hand, frowning. _why did you do that?_ you don’t raise your head, eyes focused on the paper you’re writing on _. you were staring at me. it was weirding me out._ tetsurou feels his cheeks turning warm. _sorry, i was daydreaming._ you hum, looking at him. _about what?_ tetsurou shakes his head, sighing. _it doesn’t matter. anyway, let’s focus on the plan_. you smile at him, amused. _i am focused. you’re the one who’s daydreaming._

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **eighteen** andit’s snowing. he’s staring out the window, the trees are bare, and the flowers have withered. volleyball season is over, now - and he’s no longer captain. there’s a quiet ache in his chest – a dull thudding. it’s bittersweet, but he has no regrets. the past three years have been immortalised into his memories. as the years pass, he will look back on his volleyball days, with a smile on his face. _i watched you play on the tv._ he turns his head, and it’s you – standing next to his desk. he blinks, surprised. _oh? and what did you think?_ you reply, _you were like a completely different person._ he crinkles his eyebrows, confused. _what do you mean?_ you grin. _the kuroo tetsurou i know is a giant nerd._ he huffs, looking at you incredulously. _you’re one to talk._ you, too, have an incredulous look on your face. _true. but you’re the bigger nerd. you know the full term for dha._ he crosses his arms across his chest. _at least i can pronounce docosahexaenoic acid._ you playfully roll your eyes.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **still eighteen** and it’s his first day of university. he’s on campus, walking to the lecture hall, backpack over one shoulder. the building is huge - far different from nekoma high. there are students everywhere, and they’re just like him – new, entering a new chapter in their studies. tetsurou wonders where you are - after all, you’re both attending the same university. he remembers a few months ago, telling you the university he’ll be attending, and the dumbfounded look on your face. _what the hell?_ you said. _i’m going there too!_ tetsurou quietly smiles at the memory. he, too, was surprised, and then, happy - knowing in the sea of new faces, there will be a familiar one. tetsurou feels his phone buzz in his hand, he looks at the screen, and there’s a message from you.

> _good luck on your first day!_

he smiles, and begins to type.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **nineteen** and the sky is an endless ocean of black. the moon twinkles like a pearl, and the cold air makes him shiver. both you and tetsurou enter the convenience store. it’s bright, and warm – a significant contrast to the outside. you walk towards the sweets aisle, and kuroo follows. he knows you’re peckish, staying behind at university and completing assignments – just like himself. eyes scanning the shelves, he grabs two of his favourite chocolate bars, he glances at your hand, taking your chocolates. you look at him, brows wrinkling. _hey! what are you doing?_ he smiles, waving the chocolates in his hand. _it’s on me._ you shake your head. _thank you, but no._ tetsurou pouts. _why not?_ you sigh, trying to take your chocolates from his hand, but he raises his arm, making it impossible for you to reach. _because i can pay for myself_. he turns around, ignoring your _kuroo, don’t be silly!_ and starts walking towards the cash register counter. though, he stops when he feels your hand on his arm. he doesn’t spin to face you, and before you can speak, he quickly says, _i insist!_ but your silent, still unconvinced. _you can pay on behalf of me, next time!_ he adds. _kuroo_ , you sigh, letting go of his arm. _okay._

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **still nineteen** and it’s quiet. you’re both at the public library, and tetsurou is facing down, focused on his assignment. hundreds of narratives, stories, and words surround him and you – shelves after shelves of books, it’s never-ending. tetsurou whispers your name, but you don’t reply. he straightens his back, rolling his shoulders, and turns to look at you. it’s then he realises, you’re asleep – head resting on your arms, lightly breathing. tetsurou reaches over, closing your laptop. he removes his jacket from the back of the chair he’s sitting on, and gently places it over your sleeping body.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty** and the rain is relentless. lectures have finished, and you’re both sharing an umbrella, hastily walking to the metro station. he only realises he’s smiling, when you ask him, _what are you smiling about?_ he replies, _do you remember when were sixteen and it was raining,_ tetsurou steps on a small puddle _. i asked if we could share your umbrella._ you hum, staring ahead, and you’re biting your bottom lip. he laughs, aware that you know exactly what he’s talking about. _and what did you call me?_ he asks.you smile. _i called you rooster-head._ the raindrops pelt against the umbrella. _you still have your rooster-hair,_ you add. tetsurou dramatically gasps. _how mean! no matter how much i try, i can’t get rid of my bedhead._ the sun peaks through the clouds, and you say, _i never said it looks bad._ golden rays of light flood the pavements – no longer grey and gloomy – and he feels his heart skip a beat.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-one** and playing video games with kenma. tetsurou presses the controller buttons, but it’s no use, he’s lost the game, again. he curses under his breath -sometimes, winning against kenma seems nearly impossible. he puts the controller down in front of him, and grabs his phone off the floor. he leans his back against the bed, stretching his legs out, smiling at his phone. he doesn’t notice kenma staring at him. _who are you messaging?_ kenma asks. tetsurou raises his head, looking at kenma, and he says your name. kenma smiles, gently. _do you like her?_ tetsurou nods his head, feeling warm. _you should tell her,_ kenma says. tetsurou ignores this, and instead says, _let’s play another game! this time i’ll win for sure!_ kenma rolls his eyes, and picks up his controller.

(he knows tetsurou will be fine.)

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-two** and kissing you. university is over – you’ve both recently graduated, stepping into the world of work. but, currently, tetsurou has just confessed his feelings for you, and his lips are on yours, holding your face in his hands. he kisses you slowly, memorising the taste and feel of your lips. he slightly tilts your head back, and deepens the kiss. the warm wind flows through his hair, touching his cheeks, and the flowers flourish - as the birds sing their spring song. there’s an urgency in the kiss, especially when you tighten your grip on his shirt – perhaps you, too, have wanted this for a long time. you smile, breathlessly. _idiot, took you long enough_. tetsurou smiles against your lips.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-three** and you’re straddling him. tetsurou hands are firm on your hips. he watches you with hooded eyes, rocking your hips against his, enticingly. his dark hair is matte with sweat, and you’re glistening beneath the moonlight. you lean forward, the palm of your hands resting on his chest, and he throws his head back, groaning, when you leave a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses on his neck. your whines, and his moans ring around the bedroom, and tetsurou moves his hips up, giving a sharp thrust – you cry out his name, hiding your face in his neck. and his body tingles at your breathy sighs against his ear. tetsurou sits up, changing position, so that he’s on top, in-between your legs and lays you down. he leans forward, kissing down your chest, and takes your nipple in his mouth, and you squirm. smiling lazily, he sits up, towering over you, and lifts your lower back off the bed, thrusting slowly. _more!_ you desperately whine, holding onto the sheets. and so, hands tightening on your waist, he pumps into you hard and deep.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-four** and there’s a puzzle piece missing. the sun is descending into the skyline, and the world begins to slow. both you and tetsurou are working together on the five-hundred piece jigsaw puzzle. it’s almost finished, but neither of you can find the last, missing piece. tetsurou sighs. _where is it?_ you hum, looking under the coffee table. _i don’t know._ you stand up, and walk towards the light switch, turning on the living room light. _can you see it?_ you ask. he looks around, hoping the added brightness might help him find it. _no_ , he replies. you return to your spot – on the floor, sitting next to him – and suddenly ask, _tetsurou, move to the side._ he crinkles his eyebrows. _why?_ you smile, lightly pushing him away from you. _thought so!_ you pick up the missing piece, he was unintentionally sitting on, and show it to him. he presses his lips on yours, pulling away. _sorry,_ he says. you put the missing piece in its place, and say, _complete!_

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-five** and the sand is coarse beneath his feet. he’s lying down on the beach towel, arms behind his head, soaking in the summer sun. next to him, is you – lying on your stomach, reading a book - and he can hear you occasionally turning a page. a few minutes pass, you close the book, placing it next you. you move in closer, and run your fingers through tetsurou’s hair. _let’s make a sandcastle!_ he opens an eye, amused. _we don’t have the tools to make it._ you sit up, body facing the rippling ocean, and he lifts his arm, finger tracing down your spine. _it’s okay, let’s freestyle._ he hums, also sitting up. _alright._ the sandcastle does not look like a sandcastle. instead, it looks like a giant lump – falling apart. you both laugh, giving up on keeping it intact, and instead, watch it slowly crumble. tetsurou thinks - sandcastle or not - it’s the thought that counts, anyway.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-six** and it’s midnight. the stars and moon have been awake, for a while – and tetsurou is exhausted. the olympics is approaching soon, and so the division for sports promotion is busier than ever. he unlocks the front door, quietly entering and takes his shoes off at the entrance. he enters the living room, loosening the tie around his neck, and realises the tall floor lamp is on - and you’re on the sofa, soundly sleeping. he tiredly smiles. bending at his waist, he leaves one, two, three kisses on your forehead. you stir, eyes opening _. you’d be a lot more comfortable in bed,_ he teases. you lean your head up, and he joins his lips with yours. _i was waiting for you._ you say. tetsurou eyes soften, his insides melting with all things sweet. _you must be hungry,_ you stand, stretching your arms above your head, then flopping to your sides. _i made salted mackerel pike. go and freshen up, i’ll set the food out._ tetsurou knows he looks incredibly dopey right now, but he can’t help it. he’s so in love, his heart is going to burst. he steals another kiss, before walking towards the bedroom. _tetsurou,_ he stops and turns around, your voice is heavy from waking up. _welcome home._ life is busy, the days are passing by, and he’s growing older – but he’s here, with you, and there’s no place he’d rather be…

_…i’m home._

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-seven** and eating breakfast. he’s sitting at the kitchen counter, finishing his cereal, he watches you get ready for work. hem scarf around your neck, you put on your coat, ready to leave. he places the bowl in the sink, and passes your bento to you. you take it from his hand, thanking him, and place it in your bag, telling tetsurou, _i’ll see you later._ before you can walk to the front door, tetsurou holds onto your hand, and – with resolve - says, _marry me._ it’s quiet, save for the traffic outside. he looks into your eyes, and in them, he sees is a lifetime spent with you. you smile, wide. _yeah, i’ll marry you._ he pulls you into his embrace, whispering songs of love against your ear. hands on your shoulders, he gasps. _wait! let me get the ring!_ and as he quickly goes to the bedroom – ring hidden in his sock drawer for weeks – he holds onto your affectionate laughter. it’s not an extravagant proposal, there are no tears, no sappy speech – because your _yes_ is more than enough. your _yes_ means one-thousand and more _i love you’s._ your _yes_ means _from here to eternity._

you leave the apartment, wearing an engagement ring.

*★,°*:.☆

he’s **twenty-eight** and at his high-school volleyball team reunion. they’re – nobuyuki, morisuke, lev, shohei, taketora, and the others– at kenma’s house. they’re all older, wiser, all on different journeys in life. and for everyone except morisuke – volleyball is something of the past, but it is also what connects them all. a decade has passed since he last played volleyball, but being here, with his old teammates, it only feels like yesterday he was on the court. everyone’s sitting on the floor, hot-pot at the centre of the table, the sizzling of meat, and the smell of fresh vegetables fills the air. morisuke asks, _how’s your wife?_ tetsurou grins, eyes bright. _she’s pregnant._ the chattering dies, and silence falls. his former teammates stare at him, eyes wide. _huh?_ morisuke says, breaking the quiet. _did i hear that right?_ says lev. and kenma smiles, focusing on his nintendo wii u. _you’re gonna be a dad?_ asks nobuyuki _._ tetsurou nods his head, and the men in the room erupt into cheers. morisuke and nobuyuki congratulate him with harmless punches to the back, and the others congratulate him with words. _i remember back in high school you guys would compare grades, seeing who did better._ morisuke laughs. tetsurou swallows a sip of his beer, chuckling. _me too._


End file.
